The Bouncer
by Missmarybeth
Summary: Caitlin has a habit of bouncing from place to place. Never in one long enough to make friends, just doing her best to keep her grades up, her head down, and her ass out of trouble. Then, she lands in Beacon Hills, and slowly, everything changes. SCOTTXOC


**Wassup guys. So this is ma new teen wolf fic, if you hate it, im sorry. This is mainly for my entertainment. Anyway, all rights to the writers, and all i own is my own characters**

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"Are you excited for your first day?" Will, my eldest brother, asked from the drivers seat.

I cast him a look of annoyance as my two younger brothers, smirked at me.

"I'm not twelve," I retaliated, to which Will just rolled his eyes.

"Fine then, I won't make conversation," with that the car descended into silence.

I felt bad, I knew Will was only trying to make the best out of a shitty situation, but none the less I didn't feel like talking. This was the third time we had moved schools in the last two years. We got settled, made friends, and then my melancholy mother would pack up all our things and drive us somewhere new.

"I'm going to pursue my dream of becoming an artist," she had claimed this time, as she shoved our clothes into boxes we had only just fully unpacked.

Beacon Hills was set in her sights, and it didn't matter that her artistic skill was average, or that all four of her children were sick of it. She wanted to move. So we did.

"I'm sorry," I muttered just loud enough for him to hear.

He nodded, but didn't say anything. Will had taken the role of parent when my dad left us and my mum retreated into her fantasy land. He was the one who made sure we all got to school, he was the one who made sure we had food, he was the one who kept this family together. I tried to bare that in mind as he pulled up in front of Beacon Hills High School, and cut the engine.

"Alright. You gotta go, you too Sam. I gotta take Michael to middle school," he ordered.

Reluctantly, I eased out of the passenger seat, Sam at my side, and we barely had a chance to say goodbye before Will was speeding off. Sam and I shared a look, before we went our separate ways. Sam was a Freshman, his face still held the puppy fat of youth, and although I was only a Junior, I felt far superior than him. I could feel it in the gazes of the freshman as I walked by, as if they were scared of me. I revelled in it, a mischievous smile spread across my face.

I felt that sense of superiority evaporate as soon as I stepped through the front doors. Like a lost puppy, I stood alone in a hoard of prowling wolves. I felt their eyes on me, tracking my movements, sniffing for weakness. I felt a bead of sweat run down my neck, and swore that a few people looked up, the scent of my perspiration awakening some primal urge to pounce.

The shrill chime of first bell was a welcome reprieve, and I wandered aimlessly down the corridors, being pushed and shoved this way and that. I knew I was meant to report to the office, but where the hell was that? It would help if they provided a map.

"Hey, you alright?" Someone asked, and I turned to see a dark-haired boy in a demin jacket staring at me.

I managed an uneasy nod as he approached, his kind smile left his eyes looking like pools of melted chocolate against his tanned skin. Someone stood behind him, a paler, skinnier boy in a plaid shirt with an incredulous look on his face.

"You lost?" He tried again when I didn't answer.

God I was being such a dork. Say something. Say anything. Just say yes, because you are. He stood waiting, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Do you... speak English?" He asked, and I managed to break out of my bumbling nervousness to speak.

"Yeah, sorry. I'm new, and I'm not too sure where I'm supposed to be going," I replied, my voice a meek whisper.

God I hated myself. He smiled reassuringly, a soft cheeky smile that put a little of my nerves to rest.

"Do you have any papers? Forms? A timetable?" He enquired, and I rushed to fish what little guidance I had out of my bag.

I handed him the timetable and personal letter the head master had written me about "accommodating students" and "personal one on one induction". He glanced them over for barely a second, before handing them back.

"I can take you to the office, if you want," he offered, and that's when his friend threw his hands up in exasperation and stalked over.

"Hey, Scott, if we're late to Biology again Mr. Clarke is gunna rip our asses to shreds, and after last year..." He looked me up and down momentarily, before turning back to Scott.

"Come on man, we gotta go," he seemed frantic, like he had a million thoughts racing through his mind a minute, and he could only just keep up with them.

Scott seemed to consider this, and I wondered what his friend had meant about last year. They didn't seem the type to ditch.

"It'll take just a minute, go on without me if you're that worried," he replied, to which his friend simply rolled his eyes and sulked.

"You don't have to, really," I insisted, but he brushed off my attempt to escape this awkward encounter and began to walk, his friend in tow.

"So, you have a name?" His friend asked, his eyes narrowed as he looked me over, more closely this time.

I felt nervous under his scrutiny, I wondered what he made of me. What did he make of the outfit I'd tried so hard to construct, the denim shorts, the black band shirt and red flannel I'd borrowed from Will. Did he see it for what it was, a desperate attempt to look rugged and effortless, but in fact took an hour to plan. The knee-high socks that I'd spent ages looking for in target, choosing between red and black, black if you're wondering. The black boots I'd spent all summer scuffing up to look chic, vintage. Did he see it, the effort I took to look effortless? Did he see my onyx locks in this messy bun and think 'wow, what a poser'

"Caitlin Moss," I answered, and I saw him chew over the name.

Scott stood between us a little more, as if to prevent any more questions, but his friend popped his head over his shoulder.

"Where'd you come from? Why'd you move here?" He continued his inquisition, and Scott elbowed him hard in the arm.

I didn't mind the questions, I was used to the curiosity.

"Originally? Lake Tahoe, Nevada. Then Savannah Georgia, then Seattle Washington. I think San Antonio Texas was next, then there was New Orleans in Louisiana and Richmond Virginia. I was last in Lexington, in Kentucky. Beautiful place," I realised I was rambling, and I shut my mouth.

They exchanged a look that I couldn't quite read, and I felt the nerves creep back like hot oil in my throat.

"You move round a lot?" It was Scott who asked this time as we neared the office.

"My mom, she's rather... eccentric. She doesn't like to stay in one place too long," with that the door of the office swung open, and a short man in a too tight suit emerged, forehead drenched in sweat.

His chubby face was reddened, and he smiled a fleshy grin as he saw me.

"Ah, Ms. Moss, I was just about to come and search for you," he thrilled in an upbeat voice.

His gazed turned to the two boys who had lead me here, and his face fell a little.

"Scott, Stiles, you should have been in class over five minutes ago, let us not fall back into old habits," he chastised, to which Scott looked a little embarrassed, and Stiles just pulled an 'I told you so' face.

"Sorry, Mr. Keegan. We'll go now, just tryna help out," Scott apologised, not that Mr. Keegan seemed to take any notice.

"Yes, yes. Off with you now," he waved them off, and I had no time to say thank you as they departed.

Mr. Keegan gestured me into his office, and I tentatively moved inside, taking a seat at his desk. He waddled to his seat, sat down heavily, and looked at the neat file on his desk.

"So, Caitlin, your track record at your previous schools is quite brilliant, considering the amount of moving around you've done. No incidents, good grades, glowing teacher reports, great involvement with extra curriculars. You seem like a model student... however, I do have experience with students such as yourself, who slip around their fourth, fifth school. I do not want to see this happen with you, is that clear?" He asked, and I nodded.

With a broad beam, he shut my file and pushed it back into his draw.

"Well, I think all that's left to do is give you a list of extracurricular activities I've taken the liberty to compile especially for you. Then I'll show you to your first lesson," he said as he handed me a list of activities.

Top of the list was cheerleading, then lacrosse, cross country, baseball, all activities I'd once participated in at one school or another. I felt a sense of nostalgia as memories trailed like steam through my mind. It filled me with sadness and longing, as I saw faces of long lost friends float in front of my face.

"Caitlin, are you ready for your first class?" He asked, and I stood, folding the piece of paper and shoving it to the bottom of my bag.

I didn't know whether I could join another activity, I didn't want to get involved, make friends and get settled when I knew it was practically inevitable for us to move on in a year or so. I followed the headmaster down the corridors, until we reached a classroom that looked like a lab. Inside, I spotted the two boys I had seen earlier, and I felt a little more at ease. I didn't know them, not really, but they seemed nice.

Headmaster Keegan opened the door, waltzed inside, and I stood a little sheepishly at the door. Scott looked up and smiled as Mr. Keegan and the male teacher exchanged a few words.

"Right, class this is Miss Caitlin Moss, everyone make her feel welcome outside of class please. Take a seat please," he gestured to the empty seat besides Scott, and I did so. He gave me a grin, and I returned to smile a little awkwardly.

I fished my textbook out of my bag and flipped to the page on the board. It had already been highlighted, annotated, ran through, notes taken. I had been bored all summer, with nothing to do but work.

"Homeostasis is the way the body maintains a stable internal environment. It is important for the body to have a stable environment for cells to function correctly. There are several things that need to be regulated. Does anyone know what those are?" He asked, and my hand shot up.

I only realised after I had done it that I seemed like a massive dork. A nerd, a lame kid, a kiss ass.

"Yes, Miss Moss?" He asked

"The body's temperature. If temperature were allowed to rise out of control, protein and enzyme structure would be affected. Secondly, the amount of water within the body. The levels of water can affect metabolism and osmosis. Thirdly the amount of glucose in the body, which can also affect osmosis. Finally, the amount of nitrogenous waste in the body. Nitrogenous waste can become toxic," I answered, and I felt the weight of a whole class of eyes on my shoulders.

I had been too keen. Way way way too keen. Scott stared at me gap mouthed and wide eyes. The teacher grinned.

"Yes, finally someone in this class who knows what they're talking about," he began to illustrate on the board, the enzymes denaturing, a few graphs, not that I paid much attention.

I kept my head down, I didn't need to draw any more attention to myself. I felt a poke at my elbow, and I looked up. Scott withdrew his pencil, and I rubbed at my sore skin as he pulled an awkward smile.

"So... you're good at biology?" He questioned, and I shrugged.

"I guess," I shrugged without much thought.

"So... I'm like really behind..."

"Mr. McCall, anything you'd like to share with the class?" The teacher piped up, and my eyes darted down at my textbook.

My cheeks flushed red, I felt heat spread down my neck in embarrassment.

"No, sir. Nothing," Scott managed to mutter, to which the teacher merely pointed at the board.

"Pay. Attention," he instructed, before turning back to his board.

It took all of five seconds for me to feel the poke of his pencil on my inner elbow again, and I sighed. I tried to ignore him. He persisted. With a roll of my eyes, I turned to Scott once again.

"Yes?" I hissed quietly.

"I need help, in biology," he said rather vaguely.

"So?" I prompted, not wanting to get singled out this time.

"So, can you help me? Tutor me?" He asked, and I hesitated.

I barely knew the guy. I didn't want to become the nerd of Junior year, plus taking on the extra responsibility? I wasn't sure I was down for that. But he just kept staring, waiting, and the teacher was eying us both. I sighed and pulled out a piece of paper.

"Okay! Okay, here's my number. We'll figure out a date and time," I scribbled down my number and slid it across the table.

He picked it up and smiled, tucking it into his pocket. He nodded his thanks, and for the rest of the class he left me alone. When the bell rang, I packed my stuff away silently, looking at what was next on the agenda. English. A favourite of mine. I looked up to see Scott and Stiles in deep conversation just outside the door. Scott gestured to his upper arm, while Stiles merely gestured to the notice board. There were pinned two missing persons flyers, a girl and a boy. Scott looked up then, as if sensing my nosy intrusion, and I looked away.

"Caitlin, you have english now?" He asked, and I nodded as I walked towards them.

"Yeah," I replied, to which Stiles just pulled a face I didn't understand.

"Great. Lets all go together then," he gestured for me to walk in front of him, and I did so.

There was a very awkward silence as we walked together, and I felt my cheeks grow hot in the embarrassment. I hated new schools. I hated the awkward niceness everyone tried to treat me with. I hated that I never knew who was nice, and who was just pretending to get something they wanted. I thought about the extracurricular activity list Mr. Keegan had given me, and the idea of joining one didn't feel as daunting. At least I'd get to know people who liked the same things as me.

"So, Caitlin..." Stiles trailed off, looking at me once again.

"Do you like the moon?" He asked, and Scott choked on his breath uncontrollably.

I eyed the pair as they seemed to exchange a psychic conversation. What a weird question to ask. Maybe they were weirdos after all.

"I mean... I guess?" I replied as we reached the English room.

I made sure to sit right at the back this time, well away from the pair, who continued to talk in hushed whispers despite being many seats apart. I pulled out my notebook, just as my phone buzzed. The buzzing filled the room, along with the sound of ring tones, and I opened my text.

The offing was barred by a black bank of clouds and the tranquil waterway leading to the uttermost ends of the earth flowed sombre under an overcast sky seemed to lead into the heart of an immense darkness.

As I read, the teacher herself read it aloud. It became apparent that she had sent it.

"This is the last text you will receive in this classroom," she smiled softly as she slid her own phone into her drawer.

I preceded to push my phone into the bottom of my bag, and began to zone out as I looked at the board. It seemed like merely seconds before Scott was called out of class. I watched him go with mild interest, wondering what he'd been called out for. I saw Stiles talking to a pretty auburn-haired girl animatedly, before they both turned and looked at me. I gazed back at them blankly, trying to hide my nerves. The sound of something hitting the window drew all our attentions away, and we looked at the blood stain on the glass. I narrowed my eyes at the black cloud that drifted towards the school. As it neared, however, I saw it was not a cloud at all. It was a hoard of ravens, their beady eyes fixed on the window. One hit the window, and then another did, and another, and I felt my heart in my throat as one smashed the glass.

The classroom erupted into screams as the birds kept coming, and coming, ramming their bodies through the glass like they didn't have a choice. I just sat there, completely transfixed, too shocked to do anything but stare. The teacher screamed for everyone to get down, but the sound seemed to echo in my mind like I was trapped in a lake. I sat there, completely still, as the birds careened around the classroom. People ducked under their tables, Stiles clutched the red head to his chest before he looked at me. Fear like an iron fist clamped around my throat as our eyes met, and I felt the world crash down like a weight. I should move. I should protect myself. I should do something.

"Get down!" Stiles shouted at me, and I slipped off my chair.

I managed to pull my hands up to my head and brace myself as the chaos unravelled. I don't know how long I sat there, my head between my knees, the muffled sound of screams and bird caws swirling around my body. It was only when I felt a hand on my shoulder that I looked up. Stiles stood above my desk, hand outstretched. I took it, and he hauled me to my feet.

"You alright?" He asked, and I nodded, wiping a spot of blood from my face.

"Yeah... Yeah," I mumbled, overwhelmed.

He nodded, a feather still caught in his hair, before he turned away. I looked at my desk, my notebook splattered with blood, my pencil gone. In silence, I packed my things away. I didn't want to stay here any longer. I had this urge to run, like an animal instinct to flee. I pulled my bag over my shoulder as a police officer strolled in. I went to leave, but he put a hand on my face.

"Hold on there, kiddo. Where you going?" He asked, his linked face kind.

I stopped, looking up at him with blank eyes. I couldn't explain the urge, I couldn't even try. I doubt he'd understand anyway.

"I just... I wanna go home," I replied.

He raised his eyebrows at me, giving me a true looking over then. I suppose he was looking for suspects, but then who could have done this? Who could have planned this kind of thing?

"You're new here, aren't you?" He asked, and I nodded as Stiles came over.

"Dad, what are you doing here?" He asked, and I looked between them.

Oh. That makes a lot of sense.

"Got called in, this is being treated as suspicious," he stated simply, and I took another step towards the door.

"Can I go? Please?" I begged, my fingers trembled a little as he stared at me.

He deliberated momentarily, before he nodded.

"Go on home, kid," he said kindly, and I darted out the door without a second thought.


End file.
